


Always getting better

by ok_thanks



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Growing Up Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ok_thanks/pseuds/ok_thanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In June he goes to Montréal. This is the day John gets drafted, the day he pulls Islander orange over his head and everything changes. This is the day he becomes the first overall draft pick in the National Hockey League. This is what he envisioned as a kid, what he worked for for years. </p><p>This is only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always getting better

**Author's Note:**

> There's some inaccuracies if you look hard enough at the facts but it still makes sense.  
> John, PK, and Stammer live in the greater Toronto area in this.

This is where it starts. This is Toronto in the summer. This is PK at age 7; skates a size too large and infectious smiles. This is John at age 6; shy, reserved, and well mannered. This is where they meet for the first time, at a neighborhood barbecue.

John doesn't even like PK at first, that's what he always says. PK was loud, all giggling laughter and unbound energy. John was quiet.  
“You were boring.” PK always replies. There’s never not a smile on his face when he says it.  
“So boring you just couldn't leave me alone, huh?”  
PK huffs out a laugh, “And you think you're funny.”

  
This is the summer between middle school years. This is PK, John, and Stammer camping in the Stamkos’ backyard. Stammer is asleep, sprawled over his sleeping bag with his mouth hanging open stupidly. PK is bouncing lightly on the trampoline beside John.

This is the breakthrough.

“You can see some of the stars,” John says.  
PK looks unimpressed. “Yea, that's cool, _I guess_.” He pauses, thoughtful for a second as he arranges his next sentence. “Truth or dare, JT?”  
“We aren't playing anymore.” John says automatically before leaning back and pretending to recognize constellations.  
“Says who? Just cause Stammer fell asleep doesn't mean anything. All his answers were boring anyways.”  
John says, “Truth.”  
PK’s eyes fill with glee. “Hmm,” he hums. “Riddle me this, JT-”  
“Riddle me this? Literally who says that?” John snorts audibly and earns a swat from friend.  
“Who was your first kiss?” PK looks excited when he asks, eager even. This was probably all part of some premeditated plan PK concocted throughout the night. That seems like something he would do.  
John's shrugs when he answers, blushing despite himself. “Um, no one?” PK raises an eyebrow.  
“Who was yours?” John retorts.  
“This isn't how the game works,” PK corrects.  
John sighs, “Fine, PK. Truth or dare?”  
“Truth!” His smile is disarming. John feels like an idiot when he repeats himself.  
“Who was your first kiss, PK?” John can feel his cheeks heating up, he can feel the warmth of PK beside him. He can feel his heart beating soundly.  
“No one.”  
“Okay,” John says. He feels PK’s eyes on him, feels everything coming together, wheels turning in his head. It’s all too much.  
“You should kiss someone,” PK says. “It's important. First kisses are very important, Johnny. You'll remember it forever.”  
“I guess.” John is blushing still. PK smiles more and leans in the few inches. And then they're kissing. Not much, just quick, chaste kisses.  
PK giggles afterwards and John smiles stupidly and privately to himself.  
John always remembers it.

These are the formative years.

  
They don’t go to the high school, zoning and geography working against them. It doesn't matter much anyways, they both have their eyes on the juniors and moving away.  
PK’s perturbed by it nonetheless.  
“This is terrible,” PK groans. He’s being dramatic. Stammer snorts at him from across the table.  
John shrugs, “It’s not like we went to the same school before.” PK sighs and John can see their waitress heading towards the table, pizza in hand.  
“How are you so okay with this, John. We’ll never see each other, it’ll be tragic.” PK sighs _again_ , feigning distress.  
“You are literally always at my house,” John reminds him. The pizza comes and John says _thank you_ politely before resuming the discussion, because he's trying to be a nice Canadian boy and all. “We play on a team together, PK. You’re wearing my clothes right now, I don’t think I could get rid of you if I _tried_.” John nudges PK to reassure him and the smile that spreads over PK’s face makes it worth it.  
Stammer looks on, beyond amused and John kind of wants to die. He can already feel heat rising to his cheeks.  
“Well if you say so.” PK shrugs, failing to come off as casual. PK’s maybe his best friend, but John’s not going to say that out loud.

So that’s what happens. Stammer and PK go to school together and ride the bus together and he doesn’t. John goes to school a few miles away and walks home. He makes new friends, but he never likes them as much as he likes PK and Stammer. They still kick ass on a team together in the summer and Stammer’s dad still lets them camp in his backyard whenever they want.

  
So really, things are fine. Things are great.

  
John gets into higher level classes and gets to hang out some older kids. It’s nothing he isn’t used to. The work is harder, but it puts him on the same track as PK.  
It's not that John means to compete about grades with PK, but it's too hard not to when PK shows him his first test, a big 86 circled at the top. He smiles smugly and says, “Wouldya look at that, boys.” Stammer looks bored, yawning loudly in reply.  
John rolls his eyes. “Whatever, PK.” John can bisect an angle too, big deal.  
So John shows up three days later with his geometry test, a neat _91 - good work!_ written on the top. PK narrows his eyes and Stammer groans.  
“Please tell me you're not going to try to outdo each other on grades,” he says. PK just grins in reply.

John makes honor roll for the first time ever, all year. His mother kisses his head, wraps him in a tight hug when she sees his report card. “I'm so proud of you, honey,” she tells him. John beams.  
They throw a small party, celebrating John and the end of year. PK and stammer’s families all come over along with most of the neighborhood. John’s dad cooks burgers with Mr. Stamkos. Mrs. Subban brings ice cream cake. Someone starts a pickup game.  
“This is _awesome_ ,” PK says. They're playing lacrosse in the backyard, John’s uncle watching from the porch with a small smile. It's warm and there's fireflies buzzing around them as the sun sets. John would have to agree, it is awesome.  
At the end of the night Stammer’s dad huddles the four of them together and produces an overly emotional roster reveal. He clasps his hand on John's shoulder and waxes poetic about being a team player and hard work. John’s grin is infectious and well earned.  
PK whoops loudly. “Gettin’ A’s on and off the ice, Johnny! That's my boy!” John flushes and lets PK pull him into another chorus of _that’s my boy!_

It's nice, he thinks, being curled into PK’s side like this. PK’s only a year older but he's got muscle on him now and -yeah, John likes the weight PK’s arm over his shoulders. He likes how solid PK feels against him. It’s both overwhelming and insufficient at the same time.

  
People start to leave around 10 but PK hangs around, inviting himself to spend the night. John doesn't mind, he never does.  
They watch blue jays highlights while Stammer showers and pretends not to call his girlfriend and say goodnight. PK fake gags as Steven’s voice filters through the door.  
“He's so gross,” John teases. There's no heat to it, though. He gets it. John and PK call each other almost every night and they're not even dating. It’s comforting and routine. So yeah, John gets it. He understands.

PK hums in reply and leans towards John. He starts talking, rambling on about this year; his crazy chemistry teacher, his unfortunate homecoming experience, John’s A. John eases into the sound of PK’s voice, deeper now than before. PK’s warm next to him, feet hanging off of John’s too small bed. He looks soft and happy and it's so easy when John leans forward the last few inches.

This time John's the one who makes the first move. He kisses PK slowly and unsure, moves his hand to grip PK’s shirt. It was John's at one point, he thinks, which just makes all of this worse.  
PK smiles again when they part, stretches in a yawn when the shower cuts off. John frowns at the loss of contact and makes PK snort.  
“You're so cute,” PK mumbles. He kisses John again, short and sweet before Stammer comes out of the bathroom. John falls asleep smiling and doesn't stop until the summer ends.

 

This is John’s petition, his reach for something bigger, something that will push him harder. This is the phone call, the grant of permission, the smile on his father’s face.  
This is John at age 14, the first player to be granted an exceptional player clause. This is his OHL draft, his first overall selection from the Oshawa Generals.  
These are the awards John wins in the CHL. The Jack Ferguson, the Emms Family, the Red Tilson. John is rookie of the year. Then he’s player of the year.

He’s still not good enough. John can feel the rush under his skin, the possibility of more. He trains when he goes home. He runs before school, does sprints between homework assignments.

This is John’s M.O., his campaign to be better than the best. This is John and PK in an empty ice rink back home.

This is hard, fast, and relentless. It’s a robotic, instinctive reaction. PK passes from the blue line, sauces the puck down the ice to where John stands in the left faceoff circle and shoots the puck harder, faster, more accurately. He shoots five-hole, glove side, he roofs the puck, rifles it into the mesh.  
John skates faster, more efficiently cutting his blades across the ice. He does suicides until his chest aches and his legs burn and cry out to him. John rests, but only momentarily, only long enough to regain his breath.  
Then John starts over.

  
This year is different. John works harder in school, works harder in hockey. He skates for hours, pushing himself to go faster, to be better. He gets an A and breaks a Gretzky record. He gets an A in math, a B+ in science. PK gets him leafs tickets for his birthday, John returns the favor for Christmas.

John kisses PK at his birthday party, on Halloween, and on Christmas. PK kisses him at Thanksgiving, at midnight on New Years, on a Friday afternoon. They don't talk much about it, and that's fine. John doesn't know what he would say if they did.  
John goes on a date in January and it sucks. He's nervous and uncomfortable and his date isn't interested in anything he talks about. Afterwards he huffs and puffs his way to the Subban house and watches Malcolm and PK play twister until he feels better. PK never teases him for it.

  
PK shows up at John door wearing a suit in the middle of April. “Um?” John says.  
PK pushes his way through the door and pulls John upstairs. “Why aren't you dressed?”  
“What am I getting dressed for? What are you dressed for?” John raises his eyebrows at the flowers in PK’s hands. “Do you have a date tonight?”  
“Yeah, asshole,” PK huffs. “You're my date. It's prom. Now, please tell me you own a suit better than your game day one?”

This is their first date. These are PK’s deft fingers securing flowers to John’s suit, a size too big and a tad worn out. This is when John’s mom cries taking pictures of her son, standing beside Mrs. Subban, camera in hand.

This is the the tenth time they've kissed, if John's estimation is correct. This is the heat of the room, the rush of the dance floor beneath the thrum of the music. This is PK moving with him, embarrassing dance moves and all. This is the first time John thinks about love.

This is the first time John sleeps with PK, the first time he sleeps with anyone. They're in the bedroom John’s uncle keeps for him, PK kissing him hot and desperate as they try to close the door. No one’s home and John knows where this is headed. He knows what PK wants when he crowds John against the door and pants into his neck. John wants it too.  
It's not great, but it's not bad either. It's PK kissing John within an inch of his life and slipping his hand into his suit pants. It's nothing John hasn't thought about, nothing he won't think about for probably too long afterwards.  
It's prom night and John's living in some cliche. He doesn't mind one bit.  
John walks PK home before his curfew and spends the night on their couch. When the sun rises he makes pancakes with Mrs. Subban and talks about his classes for next years, the weather, and summer plans. He tries not to think about PK the night before, desperate and easy for John. It's a losing battle.

  
Stammer gets a girlfriend before summer starts. PK gets a series of girlfriends, an A on the ice, and more confidence in his game. John gets a job mowing lawns, another as a lacrosse instructor. He doesn't pine over PK and it’s fine. He gets the C at the end of summer and another kiss from PK, a new stick from his dad.

This is growing up.

 

This is the summer PK graduates. This is the summer he gets drafted, the summer he moves away. John loves and hates it at the same time.

The Subban’s throw a graduation party and every single person John has ever met shows up. PK’s mom cries and so does John’s.  
John looks on with a heavy heart as PK dances through the crowd, smile plastered to his face.

This isn’t goodbye.

They camp out in Stammer’s backyard after the party and Stammer buys them fireworks and burgers and enough beer for a small village. PK’s smile doesn't fade the whole night.

Then it's June and John watches PK walk on stage in Columbus, Ohio from his living room. He watches PK go 43rd overall to the Montréal Canadiens and John jumps up, throws his hands in the air and hoots and hollers with Stammer beside him.  
Steven jumps with him and yells, “That's our boy! That's our fucking boy, JT!”

John can't wait for PK to come home.

PK doesn't make the team that year. John sees him occasionally, but it's not enough. The year passes and John gets all A’s, no B’s, and most importantly the C on his chest. Stammer is rumored to go first overall in the draft and he does. John watches Steven cross the stage and pull the blue jersey over chest, the Lightning hat over his head. John thinks _that's going to be me next year_.

PK doesn't play for the Habs still, but Stammer hits the ice in Tampa. John stays in Ontario, works hard in school and has a girlfriend or two. It's never serious and that's okay, he's fine with that.

After Christmas PK and John go to the World Juniors. John’s sweater has an A, PK’s has the number 5. PK buys John a Habs mug for Christmas. John gives him kisses, new gloves, and a Generals baseball hat. John feels something deep in his chest sette.

PK is familiar, easy laughs and comforting presence. PK is Ontario in the summer, fireflies, and shooting stars. PK is every literary device John learned in AP english. PK is every adjective, fluid and flowing, always growing into something better, something elaborate and undefined. PK is a metaphor for everything John misses about Toronto. PK is forever. PK is home.  
John’s head spins when they kiss. His skin buzzes, his head screams. John holds his feelings in. He focuses on the tournament.

They take Sweden to the final and dominate. PK gets a goal, John gets an assist. Canada gets 5 goals to Sweden’s one. They get the gold.  
John finishes second in scoring. He gets 7 assists, 8 goals, 15 points, and two weeks with his best friend. John gets voted the competition’s top forward. He gets named the World Juniors MVP. He gets PK in the morning, grumpy and pliable. He gets kissed good morning, good afternoon, goodnight.  
John doesn’t think about what the kisses mean. He goes home. He gets traded. John moves to London and becomes a Knight, and eventually the captain.  
The snow melts, spring comes.

Then it's May and John’s in a graduation gown as he walks across a stage and receives a diploma and a handshake from his principal. Stammer cheers from the back of the auditorium and PK pumps his fist. John's mouth quirks upwards as he flips his tassel.  
He doesn't have a party, but he doesn’t mind. PK and Stammer take him out for ice cream after dinner with his family. Stammer drives and John lets everything wash over him. PK hums the Habs goal song. Stammer threatens to pull over.

This is the calm before the storm.

In June he goes to Montréal. This is the day John gets drafted, the day he pulls Islander orange over his head and everything changes. This is the day he becomes the first overall draft pick in the National Hockey League. This is what he envisioned as a kid, what he worked for for years.

This is only the beginning.

John gets a party this time. His uncle throws a big pool party with all his family and friends and John's face hurts from smiling when the night is over. John is warm from the sun and can feel the low buzz of pleasure under his skin.  
PK is close, closer than he's been since he left two years ago and John misses him, he really misses him  
“I missed you,” John verbalizes. “I really, really missed you.”  
PK kisses him in the moonlight, tucked away from the party and his friends. John asks, “Stay the night?” PK doesn't say no.  
PK kisses him as if he's trying to make up for lost time and John melts into it. John keeps babbling stupid things like, “You're here,” and, “I missed you so fucking much,” and, “please, please, please.” John doesn't care how desperate he might sound, he's at his draft party and PK is sliding into him, fucking him so slowly John can't help the whine he lets out.  
This is where it begins, John thinks when he looks back. This is when John looked at PK, soft and easy in the morning sun, John’s sheets wrapped around them, and thought _I want to have this everyday._

This is John's rookie year in New York, PK’s first games in Montréal. This is John's first NHL goal, this is his first NHL celebration. This is his first win, his first loss. This is everything he'd dreamed about since he was a kid.  
This is New York Islanders hockey and a burden of unhappiness. This is the rebuild, John thinks.

This is the offseason every year. John and PK and Stammer coming back home to each other like old times. They're older now, but no wiser. John kisses PK without the thought of consequences. He loses himself in training, loses himself in PK’s bed. At the end of August he goes back to New York and PK goes back to Montréal and begins his rookie season.  
In October the season starts. John skates faster, works harder than before. He wants to make every shift count.

This is John's first hat-trick. This is his first All Star game. His days off spent texting PK from Dallas, from Washington, from Boston. This is John's new contract, 6 years and 33 million dollars. This is John's first house. This is home now.

These are the years between the start and finish. These are the years PK and John pretend they don't want more. The years before one of them labels what they are.  
This is the A on John’s chest. This is the roar of Long Island, the cheers of the Bell Centre. These are kisses stolen in New York, in Montreal, and wherever else they find themselves. This is when John associates PK with Love for the first time, capital letter necessary.

This is the lockout and PK’s mopey phone calls. This is John in Switzerland until he's not. Then he's in the playoffs. Then they're eliminated and John goes home to Toronto. He trains more after that, prepares for the olympics, waits for Stammer and PK.  
In September John gets the C, another party, and more kisses from PK. In the October he gets another season with Isles, a fresh start, and more hope.

This is Sochi in 2014, a torn MCL and a torn meniscus. This is the gold medal game from the sideline, watching PK speed across the ice from a press box. This is celebration, the weight of gold around his neck. This is PK’s smile for hours, these are kisses in Sochi. This is PK holding his hand before surgery, PK camped out in his hospital room until he wakes up. This is the end of John's season.

PK gets a girlfriend when they return to North America and John is fine with it until he isn't.

This is John’s alcohol induced meltdown over an Instagram picture of PK with his girlfriend. Stammer stays on the phone with him through it all, politely soothing John's nerves. He wakes up in the morning with a text from Stammer that reads _I love you Johnny please talk to him about this_. John says he will, but not now. Not when PK’s happy and John's weighed down by his injury.

May comes. The Habs and Bolts come home early. John feels relief spread through his body when he touches down in Ontario. Summer begins and his rehab is in full swing.

PK and his girlfriend break up in June. He shrugs it off when he tells John’s family about it. Mrs. Tavares says, “I'm sure you'll meet someone else soon, honey.” PK looks at John when he replies, stare intent and purposeful. John swallows and makes himself look away.  
July is rehab, skating, and a trip to Florida with PK. They wander around Tampa with Stammer as he looks for a house to buy, hands brushing close as they walk. John doesn't know what it means.

Next season is better. John finishes second in scoring, losing the Art Ross to Jamie Benn in the last game of the season. He has no hard feelings, he loves Jamie. He won a gold medal because of Jamie. But John still imagines what the trophy would have felt like in his hands; heavy and fulfilling. He pushes for next season instead, immerses himself in the next game.

The Islanders make the playoffs and beast the Capitals in the first round. John wins game three in overtime, but they drop the series in 7. John packs up and books a flight to Quebec as soon as the interviews end. PK refuses at first. This is where John wants to be. He tells PK as much.

Montréal goes out in the second round to Tampa. John watches game two from the Habs box in the Bell Centre, politely devoid of Canadiens gear. He sits with Carey’s wife and the rookies’ girlfriends and doesn't think about what that means. John watches the game and enjoys his overpriced Canadian beer.

Tampa wipes the floor 6-2 and Stammer gets his first of the playoffs. PK is silent on the way home.

He watches game 6 from PK’s apartment, watches Stammer score in the second period and notch the game winner. PK comes home and John kisses him quietly, pulls him into bed. He makes them breakfast in the morning, hangs around as PK finishes his exit interviews. He tries not to dwell on the pictures of John that PK has in his living room.  
PK comes home and they go back to Ontario together to watch the finals.  
Chicago takes game one. Tampa takes the second and third games, but drop the next three. Chicago wins the cup in 6. Stammer comes home with tired eyes and bruises covering his body.

PK takes John on vacation and to high end restaurants across North America. John wakes up every morning with PK curled around him. Most mornings John leaves, goes and grabs coffee before PK wakes up. He doesn't let himself enjoy the warmth of PK, the thought of them as one cohesive unit.  
“I hate leaving him,” John says. Stammer’s on the other line, yawning through the early morning.  
“Then why do you?”  
John freezes at that. He turns it over in his mind before answering. “I don't want him to wake up and realize I'm not what he wants, who he wants.” Stammer groans.  
“If you were going to grow out of each other it would have happened already, okay? Stop feeling sorry for yourself, JT, it's a bad look on you.” John hangs up and takes Steven’s advice.  
Summer ends and neither of them are seeing anyone else and they both know it. John kisses PK long and slow before they board their respective flights. PK texts him when he lands, says he hopes John made it home safely.

This is the turning point.

The Habs start the season 9-0 and PK gets an A and 10 points. John calls him after every game and says, “Be better.”  
Game ten is a blowout, hideous and gritty. The Habs strike early in the third, but give up two more. John sends a frowny face in the group chat. Stammer says _big deal, let me know when u lose in the cup finals._

The Isles visit Montreal in the beginning of November. The Habs win 4-1 and John has to watch PK’s smug face on the drive home.  
“You're disgusting put that away,” John says. He’s wearing a blue tie that Mrs. Subban mailed him for his birthday this year. PK and Stammer have matching ones.  
“So you're going to feed me when we get home, right?” John fiddles with the radio, searching for any station talking about lacrosse.  
“Yeah, babe. I'll wine and dine you, whatever you want.” John blushes and thinks about holding PK’s hand over the center console. Safety is important, though. John settles for kissing him when they get home instead.

John and PK face off twice more in November. First in Brooklyn and then back to the Bell Centre. Montréal blows them out both times.  
John scores first in the second game, but it's futile. They give up a shorthanded goal and then two more on the power play. The Bell Centre shakes under the roar of the crowd, the buzzing of the goal horn. Patches gets the empty netter to seal the deal.  
PK kisses him slowly afterwards, runs his fingers through John’s hair.  
“I'm glad you didn't go to Tampa,” PK sighs.  
John hums curiously. They aren’t as immune to feelings anymore.  
“Just-” PK begins, looking John in the eyes. “In the draft. Tampa had the second pick.” John nods in agreement. “I'm glad you didn't go second. I'm glad you're in New York. Tampa’s too far away and no one needs that much Steven Stamkos. Montreal would have been better, but,” PK shrugs. John laughs, pressing a soft kiss to his hand.  
“Yeah?” He asks.  
“Playing against you is great, but playing with you is better.” PK admits, sheepish smile on his face.  
John doesn't know what to say so he kisses PK instead.

This is how it builds up.

PK goes to the Winter Classic and the Habs recharge. They beast the Bruins and come out with a 5-1 victory that revives Montreal. John wears the blue and red toque PK mailed him, sends PK a photo of it afterwards. PK sends _wish u were here <3_  
January kicks off and the Isles drop their first game back. They lose more than they win, but the momentum for February builds.

PK gets voted into the All Star game because of course he does. John is named his division's captain after Ovechkin bails, but he doesn't mind. It’s a weekend in Nashville with PK, he’s never going to say no to that.

John wins the accuracy shooting category and buys matching cowboy boots with PK. He hangs out with Stammer and Patrice and laughs more than he has in a long time. John goes home with a smile, 4 new contacts in his phone, and a hickey or two from PK.

This is the transitional phase.

This is Montréal’s crash and burn. This is Therrien shouting, snapping words at the locker room. This is Montréal’s press shoehorning their way to PK’s stall. They berate him with their words, useless questions that attack and guilt him. PK answers passively at first. Then he doesn't.

This is PK benched, PK blamed for their total collapse. These are PK’s frustrated phone calls, his depleted energy. This is the rise and fall of the Montréal Canadiens.

Johns watches from the sideline, concerned and cautious. The Islanders teeter in a wild card slot. John scores his 20th goal, he adjusts to Barclays, the drive to and from Brooklyn. He tracks the Habs losses, coming more frequently now than before. John calls PK every night, texts him whenever he can. It’s never enough.

This is the beginning of March. This is John’s day off, his rest after a hard loss to Toronto. This is John’s phone blowing up. This is John watching his best friend get stretchered off the ice, taken to the hospital. These are the tears John cries when he calls Mrs. Subban.

John plays in Boston two nights later and notches the lone goal for New York. PK comes home and calls John to complain. John smiles brightly, lets PK’s commentary wash over him.

This is recovery.

John gets his 30th goal and first star of the game during Tampa’s last visit to Brooklyn. PK calls him afterwards and John falls asleep as PK talks, the familiar hum of his voice surrounding him.

PK doesn’t play for the rest of the season. The Habs finish 14 points out of a playoff position. The Isles take the first wild card slot in the east. PK flies to New York and stays with John after exit interviews. John never extended an invitation, but he didn’t have to. PK is always welcome wherever John is, it’s always been that way.

This is the first step.

PK watches game 4 from the press box. John tallies the lone goal for the Isles on the powerplay, but Florida comes back in the third and shuts them down. PK cooks John dinner when they get home, kisses John everywhere he can.

John flies to Florida for game 5. PK stays in his house on Long Island. John thinks about PK in his bed, the way it felt waking up beside him. It was comfortable and seamless in the way being with PK has always been.  
The Islanders take game 5 in double overtime. John gets home late and every bone in his body feels tired.  
PK picks him up from the airport and lets John nap on the trek home. John doesn’t look at the clock when they get home, just groans and pulls PK upstairs instead.  
“Someone’s eager,” PK laughs.  
“Someone’s tired,” John corrects. He leans back and let PK guide him to bed, lets Pk undress him and lay gentle kisses across his skin.  
John sleeps like the dead.

PK watches game 6 from the pressbox again. He watches people head for the exits as the clock winds down. There’s two minutes left and the Panthers lead 1-0. Then there’s 50 seconds left, 6 Islanders on the ice and a John Tavares equalizer. PK jumps out of his seat and Brooklyn roars.  
The Isles take it to second overtime and put up a strong fight. Halfway through the period John takes a shot, PK watches the puck deflect. John gets the rebound and steals the wrap around. Brooklyn rattles, shakes underneath the buzz of goal horn. PK shouts until his throat hurts. He watches John disappear in the sea of blue and orange. His heart pounds inside his chest. John’s smile is broadcasted on the Jumbotron as 18 thousand people jump from their seats.

The Islanders advance. The panthers fly home, a 4-2 loss in the air. John gets named the first star. No one has any objections to it.

This is the ride home. John's beaming in the passenger seat, seated in comfortable silence.  
John jumps on him as soon the door closes, pushing PK against the kitchen counter.  
“We’re going to the second round of the playoffs,” John says.  
PK smiles, beyond amused. “I know, Johnny. I saw your goals. Definitely living up to your captain clutch title.” John kisses him then, pushy and eager, like he's been waiting to do this. Maybe he has, but PK’s been waiting too. He pushes back with equal intensity.  
“We could win the cup,” John whispers.  
PK’s hand is soft against John’s cheek when he leans in. John closes his eyes and lets PK set the pace.  
“You could win it all,” PK tells him. “You can do it, JT. Anything you want, you can do it.” John presses needy and persistent against PK’s lips in reply.  
“I want to win the cup,” John says. PK nods and loses himself in more kisses.  
“I want to win it with you.” John corrects when he pulls away from the kiss. PK pants against John’s neck and pushes John away and towards his bed.  
PK starts talking, telling John how good he is, how great he looks. John screws his eyes shut and pulls PK into another kiss.

John wakes up curled against PK’s chest.

This is the day John tells PK he loves him. This is PK looking at John in wonder, gentle smile tacked on his face.  
These are the words on PK’s tongue. These are the years that led up to this moment. This is the rush in the air, the deafening pound of John’s heart inside his chest.

This is love and commitment and everything in between.

This is where it ends. Tuesday afternoon, Long Island, New York. No rain, clear skies, mild humidity, low pollen count (John made them watch the weather channel during breakfast).  
This is where they live, in this one moment, brief as it may be. This is now.  
When PK thinks about it, it really isn't the end at all.  
Everything starts somewhere. This, the friendship, started in Toronto. This, John's smile, bright and unbound, started around the same time. Countless nights and summers shooting pucks at John's uncles house led to this.  
This started a long time ago. PK doesn't remember when. There's no one date to pinpoint. There's a lot to This.  
The wind whistles softly and wind chimes move gently. There's a cooler of beer to PK's right, a dog to his left, and John all around him; long arms hung around PK's shoulders. Comfortable, protective.  
This - John's small smile, his wrinkled laughter, lazy kisses and Monday lunch dates - started here.

This is where it ends, PK thinks. John laughs, deep and loud beside him. His smile bounces easily off him to PK and it’s infectious. John's snorting and PK wants to swat him, wants to chirp his cackling voice, wants to kiss him.  
PK does all of them, in that order  
John keeps kissing him, dopey smile plastering his face when he moves away to lean against PK's chest.

  
This is where it begins, PK thinks.


End file.
